


Recovery

by 2nerd4this



Series: 'For My Soul" [9]
Category: Six - Marlow/Moss
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, cathy angst, mama aragon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-13 09:20:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28901028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2nerd4this/pseuds/2nerd4this
Summary: God that title sucks but I can't bring myself to careLove you Cyn <3
Relationships: Anne of Cleves & Catherine Parr, Catherine of Aragon & Catherine Parr
Series: 'For My Soul" [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1935613
Comments: 2
Kudos: 25





	Recovery

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CynicalRainbows](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CynicalRainbows/gifts).



> God that title sucks but I can't bring myself to care
> 
> Love you Cyn <3

Productivity had always been important to Catherine Parr. She definitely preferred spending her time producing something she could use to prove she spent her time well over doing nothing, and most of the time, she found this fairly enjoyable. Being able to look at the end result of her hard work was always satisfying, and she never felt more successful than when she was proud of the work she had done.

In her old life, being productive was an expectation. She had grown up with the expectation that she would get married and be a good wife for her husband, so she had learned many skills that would prove her worth to any potential man that could support her in society and allow her to survive. In society’s view, she was only productive when she took care of her husband and potential family, and over time, she got pretty good at that. Good enough, at least, that she had four husbands.

This form of productivity, however, was not nearly as satisfying as she had hoped, so she began to spend any free time she had being productive in a way that was much more appealing to her. Writing allowed her to see the things she accomplished grow and become solid in front of her eyes, and above all, it was just enjoyable. She created a name for herself as more than a wife or a Queen, but as a writer, and that became her legacy. Her purpose and her most important form of productivity.

\---

Being productive stayed just as satisfying in Cathy’s second life. When everything was so uncertain and unfamiliar, being able to do something productive was a way to retain any sort of stability. It also gave her a purpose in the world she felt so out of place in.

When united with the five other Queens, she soon learned that her legacy had carried on into history and was what set her apart from the others. Each of them had an expectation that was laid on them in reincarnation and writing was hers.

In all honesty, this excited her. With all the new freedom, tools, and knowledge, she could write more, about more, and for more, than ever before. 

In the beginning, she wrote as much as she could, for her own sheer pleasure. When she wasn’t writing, she was reading, exploring, and researching. The others were adapting to the world and contributing to their new lives in their own way, and they appreciated her work, which made it all the more better.

Recently, though, something had changed. Writing was no longer pleasurable. In fact, it felt more like a chore, but as hard as she tried to contribute to housework or errands, she had discovered that this was the way she had to be productive, and so she carried on.

Soon enough, she would be done with this infernal, horrifying script and she could move on, back to being as productive as she knew she needed to be.

At least that’s what Cathy told herself as she leaned over her desk, and lowered her head into her sore hands, sighing.

Even as she shut her eyes, the piercing light from her laptop invaded her vision and she cringed. She had been sitting in this chair for hours now, making absolutely no progress on the script that she promised the others would be ready by the end of the week.

It had been almost a month since Anna proposed the idea of telling their own versions of their stories on the stage and at first, Cathy had jumped at the opportunity. In her time in this century, she and the others had gotten quite the introduction to modern theatre through small productions that were put on just down the street, and their fascination grew from there.

Anne and Kitty had immediately volunteered to work on the songs, but when Catalina pointed out that they would need dialogue and an actual script, all eyes turned to Cathy, and she had no choice but to accept.

She was the writer of the group, after all, and she knew it would be cruel to make any of the others spend any more time than they had to reflect on their past traumas. When it came down to it, she was the obvious choice for the job, but that didn’t make it any easier.

The other Queens had been quick to reassure her that they didn’t expect a final draft during the first read-through, but the cousins had finished writing and composing the songs days ago, and they were all counting on her.

As such, the sixth Queen had spent day and night for the past week at her desk, trying to clunk through the script. It had been going fairly well, actually, until she finished Kitty’s section and reached her own.

It wasn’t a big deal, she told herself. She was expected to produce a script, and a script she would produce, but she could feel herself sinking into the world of uselessness, and that would never do. She was Catherine Parr, Queen of England and famous writer. This is what she is supposed to do.

Rubbing at her eyes, she tried to pull her brain to the blurring screen in front of her, but the light that was starting to seep through the curtains made her recoil and she flinched, then glanced at the clock: nearly 6am.

Sighing, she decided to treat herself with another mug of coffee, and began to stumble downstairs towards the kitchen, trying her best to remain silent for the five sleeping women in the house.

Or, apparently, the four, because a door creaked open behind her as she descended the first flight of stairs. 

When Cathy reached the kitchen and the coffee maker, she saw Anna blearlily appear out of the corner of her eye, and tried her best to give a polite smile.

“You’re up early,” the fourth Queen commented, then paused and narrowed her eyes suspiciously at the younger woman, “or, more accurately, really, really late.”

“I was just working on the script, I’ll go to bed soon.” Cathy mumbled, to which Anna smiled.

“How’s that going, by the way?”

“Oh, errr....” Cathy quickly turned her attention back to the slowly filling mug. It was so hard to lie to Anna.

“Cathy? Is something wrong?” Anna looked suddenly concerned, and stepped toward her slowly. “We don’t expect it to be perfect, you know. It’d be completely understandable if you wanted a second pair of eyes, or third or fourth or... just to help out.”

“I got it, Anna.” Cathy mumbled under her breath, willing the coffee to drip faster. 

“You sure? I’m always free to help if you...”   
  


“I said-” Cathy cut her off suddenly, swinging her mug away and turning on the taller woman- “I got it. Wouldn’t want to tear you away from your Netflix and horror films, would we?”

“Whoa, Cathy, what-” Anna started, but it was too late. The sixth Queen had disappeared up the steps, leaving droplets of spilled coffee in her wake, with Anna reeling from her sudden tenacity and words.

\---

Cathy collapsed into her desk chair just in time to bury her face in her hands, willing the tears to hold back. The moment she snapped at Anna, she felt horrible, but she didn’t exactly regret what she said. It was true- the Queen did spend an awful lot of time relaxing in the living room. 

The interesting part, though, was that Cathy didn’t find herself angry at her for it. More... jealous.

Jealous that she was able to stop and breathe and not worry about creating something, jealous that the other Queens didn’t seem to mind her lack of productivity, jealous that she didn’t hate herself whenever she had a second of calm.

Shaking her head, she tried to clear these thoughts. Anna and Cathy were just built different, she reasoned. She was made to create things and Anna was made to... do whatever she did, which she was always somehow amazing at. 

Cathy often hated herself for how jealous she was of the others when they sat down to watch a movie or go out to lunch, when she knew she needed to retreat back to her room to work. Logically, she knew she could easily join them, that it wouldn’t be the end of the world, and that she couldn’t be expected to be productive all day every day, but the instinct was so deeply ingrained in her from life in the 1500s that it was nearly impossible to shake.

As she turned back to the laptop, the rough draft of her introduction to her song that Anne had drafted with her a week ago (which, now that she thought about it, was about the same time things began to go downhill) glared back at her. 

Before the draft, Anne and her had had a long conversation about Thomas and how she would tell her story, and the two eventually came to an agreement that the truth could be told through a different angle to make the whole story of the show flow better.

That didn’t make it hurt any less.

Writing these things about her life had forced her to reflect on things she never wanted to have to think about again, at least not at this depth.

In times that she was clear headed enough to examine her own thoughts and emotions, which were rare, she knew that there was trauma associated with her past, and that while she was still reeling from reincarnation, she was trying to write something that could communicate her experience, which was still all too real, to unassuming audience. 

In those moments, she knew this was part of the struggle she was having. It was part of the reason that she had taken the burden of the script, to relieve this pain from the other Queens, and to find productivity and purpose in her skills.

When she wasn’t clear headed, though, there was no such self-awareness. 

Now, she was just staring at her work in silence, willing herself to write something, anything, before she lost all energy and collapsed.

Closing her eyes, she clenched her fists and took a deep breath, before exhaling slowly and bringing her shaking fingers to the keyboard.

As she opened her eyes, the words on the screen were still out of focus, but she began typing anyway, with only a vague idea of what she was writing.

\---

After twenty-minutes or so, Cathy had written a page, but she didn’t have the guts to reread it and see if it said what she wanted it to say.

Resigning herself to continue this pattern until she was able to return to her usual standard, she forged on, but before she could type more than a few words, a knock on the door broke through the haze in her mind.

Her heart dropped as she initially thought it must be Anna, but the voice that echoed through the door negated that idea, and after the instinctual relief, she realized that this was probably worse.

“Mija? Cathy?” 

The sixth Queen could do nothing but sigh and lower her head to the desk in defeat at the sound of her godmother’s voice. 

“Querida, I know you’re in there. I could hear you typing.”

Cathy held her breath, as if that would drive the first Queen away, but to no luck.

“I talked to Anna.”

A sharp inhale, and within moments, Cathy slid her wheeled chair to the door and turned the lock sharply.

Catalina waited a moment, then slowly turned the doorknob and peeked her head inside to see her goddaughter slumped over in the desk chair in the middle of the room.

“Catherine, are you alright?” The first Queen slipped through the barely open door and crossed the distance between them in a stride, kneeling down in front of her goddaughter, only to see her eyes tightly shut.

“How mad is Anna?” Cathy muttered, not opening her eyes. Catalina frowned.

“Hmm?”

“I didn’t mean to say that to Anna.”

“Oh...” Lina nodded slowly, “You mean when you insinuated she was lazy?”

Cathy cringed immediately, pulling her hands away from where her godmother was holding them gently. 

“I swear I didn’t mean-”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said it like that. Anna isn’t mad, mija. She’s just concerned.” Catalina hurried to correct herself, immediately regretting her words. 

“Concerned for what?” Cathy peered up at Lina, who sighed.

“You, of course. We all know you’ve been overworking herself on the script and Anna told me what happened when I came downstairs for breakfast.”

“I’m really sorry, I should never have said that to her. I was just... you know...”

“No, I don’t.” Catalina shook her head, shifting to sit on the floor in front of the chair. Cathy bit her lip, then slid out of the chair and sat across from her godmother, leaning against the bed. “Tell me, mija.”

“I guess I was just a little jealous,” Cathy admitted quietly, blushing furiously. “It’s so stupid, I know, but I haven’t really been thinking very clearly recently.”

“Jealous of... of Anna?” Catalina questioned, only to receive a small nod. “Of what exactly?”

“You know, her... the way she... she’s so chill and relaxed all the time, and I... I’m... not.”

“Alright....” Catalina began, tilting her head as she tried to examine the sixth Queen’s expression. “I’m sorry, querida, I don’t think I quite get it. Are you saying you want to be more, uh, ‘chill’?”

“No, no, I... I just want to...” Cathy stumbled over her words for a moment, before closing her eyes and leaning back against the bed in defeat. “I just want to relax.”

“Oh.” Lina whispered quietly, the pieces in her mind falling into place. “Oh, oh pobrecita.” 

“Please don’t.” Cathy cringed. “I know what you’re going to say and I don’t need to hear it. I’ll take a break when I’m done with the script, but I really just need to finish it.”

Catalina nodded slowly, processing her words, before asking simply: “Why?”

“What?” Cathy was caught off-guard.

“Why?” The eldest Queen simply repeated, shrugging softly. 

“You... they... it just needs to be done.”

“Well, yes, eventually that would be nice, but why does it have to be you?”

“I’m the writer. I volunteered and I should follow through,” Cathy explained simply.

“Alright... then what’s stopping you?”

“....”

“What was that, mija?” Catalina leaned forward, ducking her head to try and make eye contact. 

“I can’t. I just... I can’t.”

“Okay.... what’s the difficult part?”

The question was meant with silence, so Lina hoisted herself to her knees and peered at the still shining laptop for a moment, before humming softly.

“I know the rest of us aren’t nearly good with words as you are, but would you accept our help? At least with this part?” Catalina offered, trying to sound as casually as she could. Cathy shook her head.

“I can do it. I would... I need...”

“Mija, honey... I, I don’t know how to explain this to you, but you’re not obligated to write this, especially not now.”

“I know that, I do, but I-” Cathy started, then suddenly furrowed her eyebrows. “What do you mean, ‘not now’?”

“You’re hurting.”

“No, I’m-”

“Yes you are,” Catalina quickly cut her off. “We all are. And we are all coping with reincarnation and the effects of our past trauma differently. I’m really sorry we didn’t see it sooner, we... we thought writing was your way of healing.”

“It is!” Cathy exclaimed, heartfelt. “Or at least it was... I.. I don’t know what happened.”

“Cathy... Catherine... you’re allowed to take time for yourself, especially when you’ve been through something like this. There’s no need to be productive, to have a purpose all the time. You can rest, honey. You  _ should _ rest.”

There were a few minutes of silence after this, as Cathy stared at the carpet and Catalina fidgeted to keep herself from speaking, before the younger woman lifted her head slowly. 

“I don’t think I can finish the script, Catalina. Not right now.”

Catalina beamed, then quickly schooled her expression and nodded. “Okay. I’ll talk to the others and see if we can figure something out, and then you can approve it when you’ve rested.’

“Thank you. They won’t... they won’t be mad, right.”

“Of course not, querida. We all know all too well how it feels to be a little messed up, or a lot messed up, and how important rest is because of it. You’re more than allowed to take time for yourself to recover. Alright?”

“...yeah.” Cathy nodded slowly. “Alright.”

Catalina smiled widely once more. “I’m very proud of you, mija. Please rest.”

Cathy simply nodded, feeling the exhaustion of the past few weeks finally catching up to her. As she allowed herself to relax fully into the bed behind her and her eyes to fall shut, she exhaled slowly, feeling for the first time in the week that she could breathe again. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for Reading!!!!! <3


End file.
